


Love's Musketeer, Chapter 1

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Love's Musketeer [1]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Read the series notes!, Romance, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-01
Updated: 2003-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D'Artagnan joins the group, in more ways than one!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Musketeer, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cast of characters: Athos-Jim, D'Artagnan-Blair, Porthos-Simon, Aramis-Rafe, King Louis-OC, Phillipe, King's consort-OC, Cardinal Richelieu-Garett Kincaid, Rochefort-Lee Brackett, Duke of Buckingham-Stephen Ellison, Henri Phillipe-Henri Brown, Lady de Winter-Carolyn Plummer, Rogert-OC 
> 
> 1\. This is set in a GAY universe. Most every character is GAY.  
> 2\. If you're looking for a work of literary excellence with in-depth plots and insightful thoughts from the characters, you're in the wrong place.  
> 3\. Please remember this series was written purely for fun! Romance and sex, with a little sword play thrown in for good measure--that's the way I wrote it. ;-)

Aramis pulled free the handkerchief he had hidden within the cuff of his sleeve. "We must soon end our sparring, Athos." The dark-haired Musketeer wiped the sweat from his face. "I am escorting Porthos to Madame Bajon's to listen to the famous poet, Desportes." Glancing over his shoulder, Aramis smiled at the large black Musketeer lounging lazily at a nearby table. "Excited about tonight, mon ami?" 

Porthos groaned secretly as he saluted his lover. "I am breathless with anticipation, Aramis." 

"You are such a liar." Aramis laughed as he tucked his handkerchief back in its hiding place. "Would you care to join us tonight, Athos?" Turning his attention to the older man, Aramis found him standing absolutely still, his eyes unfocused. 

"Porthos!" Aramis quickly sheathed his sword. "Make haste! Athos has lost himself again." Aramis lightly slapped his captain's cheek. "This is not the time, mon cher. Rochefort is in the building and it would please him to no end to find you like this. Awake!" Checking to see if anyone else noticed Athos' spell, Aramis gripped his shoulders and shook him hard. "Athos!" 

"Here. Let me have him." Before Porthos could take hold of Athos, a young, unknown Musketeer brushed past him and touch the Musketeer captain on the shoulder. 

"Excuse me, Monsieurs. May I be of assistance?" 

Eyes widening in surprise, both Aramis and Porthos watched their friend take a deep breath and refocus on his surroundings, his usual confused and grumpy state of return, forfeited. With a nod to the stranger standing at his side, Athos smiled slightly before lifting his sword to Aramis and saluting. "Shall we begin again?" 

Aramis nodded, his mind still grappling with the ease at which the longhaired youth broke Athos free of his spell simply by touching him. Raising his hand, he stalled his friend. "One moment, please." Aramis pulled his lover to the side and whispered urgently, "I don't care what you have to do but it is urgent that you convince Monsieur de Trville to assign this boy into our care. I'm not sure what just happened but if he can help us keep Athos from losing himself in these spells then it is most imperative we have him nearby at all times." 

Porthos nodded his agreement and embraced the confused Musketeer standing beside Athos. "Come, boy! Tell me your name." 

Athos clapped his hand on Aramis' shoulder, his curious gaze captured by the long mahogany curls of the stranger walking away with Porthos. "Who might that be?" 

Aramis raised an eyebrow when the youth glanced back at them, his shy smile directed at his somber captain. "Your savior, Athos. I believe he is your savior." 

+++++++ 

"No!" 

"Yes!" 

Athos slammed his fist down on the table. "No! I am your captain and I say... No!" 

Porthos ignored his friend's protest. "You need D'Artagnan, Athos. We have been in the field an entire fortnight and he has wrestled you free from these spells that befall you. Not once but every time, Athos." Porthos pounded the table. "I say he stays." 

"He is too young." 

Porthos rolled his eyes and snorted. "D'Artagnan is a King's Musketeer. He is not too young." He looked closer at his captain. "Tell me the real reason you do not want him with us." 

"He is inexperienced...." 

Porthos gripped Athos' arm. "We were all inexperienced at one time or another, Athos. Besides, even you have to admit he has conducted himself honorably this past fortnight." Porthos tightened his grip, pulling Athos closer. "You must do better, my friend, to convince me to leave this young pup behind. Tell me the truth, mon cher." 

Athos broke free of the older man's hold and turned to gaze out the window. "I want him," he whispered quietly. "He stirs my hunger." Athos closed his eyes briefly. "But he also gives me peace. A sweet peace that I have found with no other." 

Smiling broadly, Porthos slapped his friend on the back. "This is good, is it not? Take him into your bed, Athos. Let his body warm your old bones." The black Musketeer gentled his voice. "You have denied yourself too long, Athos. Open your heart to this boy and maybe he will be the one to give you back the love you lost so many years ago." 

Athos shook his head and turned away. "We shall see, my good friend." 

+++++++ 

At last the inn was quiet, the remaining patrons moving upstairs with their chosen wenches. Rowdy male laughter mixed with female giggles floated down into the darkened dining area, tempting those that were left behind. 

D'Artagnan sat at the table with two of his comrades. The sometimes priest, sometimes Musketeer, Aramis was tucked against the solid form of his large lover, Porthos. His slender hands held open a book of poetry, his soft voice whispering tender words of love, passion and desire. D'Artagnan smiled as his two new friends lost themselves in that magical world inhabited only by lovers. 

The large and occasionally clumsy Porthos tenderly embraced the smaller man, nuzzling the area behind his ear. His rough and callused hands soothingly stroked Aramis' chestnut curls, bringing forth soft, quiet moans from his lover's lips. When Aramis turned to kiss Porthos, D'Artagnan blushed and looked away, his embarrassment wrestling with the loneliness that had taken residence in his heart. 

Unable to resist, he turned back and was stunned to observe the two Musketeers embracing passionately. Porthos had ripped Aramis' tunic off one shoulder and was trailing small bites across the pale skin, his fingers pulling and pinching the younger man's exposed nipple. Aramis moaned and tipped back his head, his tangled curls highlighted with sparkles of amber and bronze from the fire in the nearby hearth. D'Artagnan felt his own cock harden as he watched Porthos lower his head and suckle his lover's small erect nipple. A tortured hiss of air escaped his lips when he caught sight of Porthos' hand as it moved lower and firmly stroked the area between Aramis' legs. 

His body's blatant reaction forced him to retreat and he sought refuge in the far, dark corner of the inn, the pain within his lonely heart nearly strangling him. Would he ever find such a love as the one shared by Porthos and Aramis? Would his body ever feel the embrace of desire? Be touched and caressed by the hands of passion? Be tasted and kissed by the lips of hunger? 

The youth stumbled awkwardly, driven away by the husky moans and cries of love emanating from his friends. In his haste, he tripped over a discarded boot and fell heavily against a man sitting at a table hidden in the darkness. Strong arms reached out and steadied him, hands holding his hips in a firm grasp. D'Artagnan twisted around, a quick apology ready to be offered to this kind stranger. 

All thoughts and words evaporated into the stillness as the dark, smoky blue eyes of his leader, Athos, captured his gaze. Mesmerized, he watched as Athos' gloved hand lifted and touched his face, capturing the single tear that fell down his cheek, tripping the rhythm of his heart when the salty moisture was brushed across his trembling lips. Closing his eyes, D'Artagnan imprinted the image in his mind, a memory to be treasured in the darkness of his lonely nights. 

Athos sat quietly, watching the distracted youth, his mouth curved in an understanding smile. Gently gripping D'Artagnan's hips, he pulled him down unto the bench, folding his smaller body into a warm, caring hug. Straddling the narrow seat, he settled D'Artagnan between his legs, securing him close to his larger body. 

"Little man, what troubles your heart this stormy night?" 

The young Musketeer attempted to pull away from the intimate contact but Athos blocked all efforts of escape by encircling him with his strong arms. The captain then captured the youth's shaking hands and pressed his thighs against the slender legs that trembled with fear. 

"Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you." Athos lowered his head and gazed into the clear sapphire eyes of his junior comrade, their color disappearing as D'Artagnan's pupils dilated with fright. 

"You are safe, my child. Your body trembles with fear but there is no one here that can cause you any harm." Athos touched his lips to the boy's forehead, continuing to whisper soothing words. 

D'Artagnan willed his body into stillness. It was not fear that shook his body. It was the overwhelming physical attraction to Athos that had him on the edge of losing control. He had always admired the older man but until this moment, he had not realized how much he was captivated by not only the man's physique but also by his sharp intelligence, his devotion to his friends, his loyalty to king and country. He sensed that a gentle spirit lurked beneath the gruff, often times brusque, exterior. And it was to that spirit his empty and lonely heart answered. 

Athos watched D'Artagnan for a few minutes and smiled at the emotions that chased across his face. _Yes! You feel it too... this connection, this bond between us._ The hardened Musketeer allowed his gaze to travel over the young body held securely against him. It was a small, compact body, youthful muscles firming, evidence of the daily workouts the four Musketeers insisted on. Waist length hair, the color of burnished mahogany, fell across his shoulders, the curls soft and fragrant. 

Athos allowed himself a brief touch of D'Artagnan's locks, burying his face in their silkiness. He took advantage of his heightened sense of smell and breathed in deeply, his nose detecting the musky scent of . . . arousal? Athos looked down in surprise, catching sight of the large erection straining against the boy's tight breeches. Lustful thoughts immediately rushed forth, inflaming his own manhood with extreme hunger. 

Frozen in place, Athos realized it would be only seconds before D'Artagnan was aware of his body's uncontrollable reaction. How would the youth react? 

* * *

End


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